


Black No.1

by WintersLonging (LivingSilver)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Bucky with a tattoo sleeve instead of the arm, Exhibitionism, F/M, Smut, implied supernatural elements, slightly goth Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingSilver/pseuds/WintersLonging
Summary: Bucky roams the city restlessly. The cool October air filling his lungs. He’s looking. Looking to blow off some steam.Not a lot of people on the street this time of night, morning, whatever, but the ones that are move aside for his imposing black leather jacket clad, combat boot wearing figure.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is in the spirit of October and is very heavily inspired by the song Black No. 1 by Type O Negative, which is about a girl with black hair but I made it about lipstick. Anyways, I highly recommend you listen to the song before reading this okay, because I feel like it definitely evokes a very specific tone that I had in mind while writing this. And this is also for the person who requested exhibitionism, I didn't forget about you and I tried to include some, so I hope you like! 
> 
> Lines in italics are lyrics from the song. I don't own them or the title.
> 
> Here's my sideblog: jamesfckmebarnes.tumblr.com

_I went looking for trouble…and boy, I found her._

Bucky roams the city restlessly. The cool October air filling his lungs. He’s looking. Looking to blow off some steam. Doesn’t know how or where. There’s a place, he thinks. He’s been there before. A club. But he doesn’t quite remember where. It’s been a long time. So he walks, trying to remember. Not a lot of people on the street this time of night, morning, whatever, but the ones that are move aside for his imposing black leather jacket clad, combat boot wearing figure.

Bucky’s beginning to lose hope when he looks up and the sign flickers down at him like something out a dream. No name. Just a green “O” with a negative sign in the center and a small collection of misfits smoking outside the door, brandishing tattoos, piercings, spiked clothing, and obscene hair colors proudly. They don’t give him more than passing glance as he brushes past inside and that’s why he wants to be here.

He makes a beeline for the bar, dark guitar chords of the too loud music pounding through him.

The first thing Bucky notices about her is the lipstick. Black. Nothing special here, a lot of people wearing black lipstick. But hers is _black_ and impossibly matte with perfectly crisp edges. He wants to kiss her just to see it smear. Before he knows it, those onyx lips are curving into the slightest of come hither grins, heavily shadowed eyes only slipping a hint of a glance his way. That’s enough for him.

Bucky downs his whiskey and makes his way past the few barstools that separate them. She’s just finishing her drink as he sidles in beside her, leaning heavily against the bar.

“Buy you another?” Bucky propositions lowly, blue eyes raking over her features now that’s he close enough to appreciate them fully, sweeping all the way down the swell of her cleavage revealed by the “v” of her lacy black dress before landing back on her shapely, painted mouth.

She drinks in the figure beside her with veiled interest. Tall. Broad. Delicate cheekbones. The shadow of his jawline sharp even beneath his stubble. She graces him with a smirk and tells him the name of her drink.

Bucky hails the bartender, and they strike up a slyly flirtatious exchange.

_Well, when I called her evil, she just laughed._

Her laugh is a dark, tinkling kind of sound. Rubies hitting obsidian.

“Smoke?” She prompts when their drinks and small talk are finished, pulling out a box of clove cigarettes.

“After you, doll.” Bucky replies huskily.

He follows her out a side door and into an alley, appreciating the sway of her hips and the glimpse of her thighs between the place where her dress hits and the start of her high boots. The scent of her perfume trails behind her--the burning of crisp autumn leaves.

Outside the moon is full and high. She lights the one cigarette and takes a heavy drag before handing it off to him. That’s the only pretense of exchange between them before Bucky’s huffing out smoke and letting the cigarette drop to the alley floor, leaning in kiss to her hungrily, without hesitation.

She responds immediately, opening up for him easily. His jaw works strongly against hers, licking into her mouth, one hand coming up to cup her face as he backs her against the brick wall, all the while the kiss is an unbroken dance of lips. Bucky pulls away to see if he’s managed to smudge that impeccable ebon lipstick. It remains firmly in place, mocking him. He punishes her by nipping at her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, and letting it go with a quiet pop.

Bucky doesn’t waste any time slipping a hand up her dress and past her panties to fuck two fingers into her slick pussy. She lets out a small, pleasant noise and pushes his leather jacket down his shoulders so she can feel more of his muscular frame, revealing part of the full tattoo sleeve on his left arm in the space between his shirt sleeve and where jacket has been rucked down to his elbow.

The tattoo is an intricate network of geometric black lines that she studies with interest, fingers tracing it appreciatively while Bucky sucks devilishly red marks into her throat and curls a third finger within her. She clutches the back of his neck, holding him to her, back curving away from the wall chasing the wave of pleasure rolling through her to a peak. Bucky groans against the shell of her ear feeling her clench and spasm around his fingers, imagining how much better it would feel around his cock, currently straining against the zipper of his jeans.

When she relaxes, Bucky withdraws his fingers, offering them to her. He pants as his fingertips disappear past the midnight orbit of her lips, languidly sucking them clean with long strokes of her pink tongue. It makes the head of his cock tingle.

Abruptly, he removes his fingers, unable to wait any longer. She shoves his jacket off the rest of the way, letting it drop to the ground so she can admire the rest of his tattoo and his finely muscled arms. Then pops open the button of his jeans, deftly pulling down the zipper. Bucky's thick length falls free due to an intentional lack of boxers. She gives him a wicked grin and pumps his cock with a cool hand. Bucky hisses and lifts her easily, legs encircling his waist. Neither of them caring that anyone could walk out the side door next to them at any moment or that there's a group of people standing at the end of alley just a little farther on.

He enters her swiftly, discomfort flickers briefly across her features as she adjusts to his size, but it only lasts for a moment. Because then her mouth is falling open while he pulls out slowly before thrusting sharply again. Bucky presses a thumb against her full bottom lip and finally succeeds in smearing the tar like black of her lipstick. He kisses her sloppily, all tongue and need, smudging the black left on his thumb across her jaw, continuing to roll his hips deeply into her.

She moans and sighs her pleasure. There's another sigh. Not hers. A sharp, startled thing from a distance. Bucky thinks someone’s spotted them. He fucks her harder. Let them look. Quickly retreating footsteps.

Her walls are coiling tighter around his aching cock, and Bucky slips a hand between them to stroke her clit, head thudding back against the brick wall, exposing her throat and the once red marks already darkening blue and purple.

Heavily hooded eyes meet his own just as her eyebrows start to knit together signaling her demise. He thrusts harder, burying himself within her, and she clenches impossibly tight around his swollen length. Eyes rolling back into her head, he can see a thin strip of white before her lids fall shut, demonesque, and her mouth falls open in a soundless "o". The result of air being ripped out of her lungs until it finally returns in a harsh, broken gasp, and Bucky throbs and spills within her, breath ragged and heavy in the crook of her neck.

Bucky lets her down gently, legs uncoiling like snakes from around his middle. She gazes up at him mischievously; the knowledge of some amusing secret flickering in the depths of her eyes. He plants a parting kiss on the ruins of her blackened lips and silently wishes he'll run into her again if he ever comes back here. Her tongue licks fondly over his top lip, reawakening the embers of desire within him, but then she's pulling away.

"Stay evil, sweetheart," Bucky murmurs playfully.

He turns away, reaching down to retrieve his jacket from the alley floor.

"Walk you-" _home_ , he was going to say because they may be strangers who fucked in an alley but Bucky isn't going to let a lady walk the streets of New York City alone this time of night. But when he straightens up again, shrugging on his jacket, she's simply gone. Vanished. He didn't hear the retreating of footsteps. Didn't see any movement from the corner of his eye. Didn't hear the side door open and close. Intrigued he jogs down to the end of the alley. Looks left. Looks right. Not a trace of her to be found.

Bucky gazes up at the full moon and smiles to himself before starting on his way home.

 


End file.
